


my soul made me chariots for a princely people

by Medie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you saying this thing is about to turn into an <i>orgy</i>?!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	my soul made me chariots for a princely people

**Author's Note:**

> written as a pinchhit for [](http://purple-cube.livejournal.com/profile)[**purple_cube**](http://purple-cube.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/sg_rarepairings/profile)[**sg_rarepairings**](http://community.livejournal.com/sg_rarepairings/) ficathon. The request for teyla/lorne with the colour blue and silk. Thanks to [](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/profile)[**havocthecat**](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/) for the beta and sorry, [](http://purple-cube.livejournal.com/profile)[**purple_cube**](http://purple-cube.livejournal.com/) that it took so long.

*

In Teyla's defense, she had not seen this coming.

"I..."

"Oh, I won't hear a word of it, lass." Carson holds up a hand, forestalling her apology, and she smiles at his little grin. "Truth of the matter is, we've had good luck with viruses and the like before now." He pauses and they both look chagrined. "All right then, good luck with the _natural_ viruses. It was only a matter of time before it ran out and..." Chagrin turns to a wince of sympathy when Colonel Sheppard lunges for a bucket.

"And the pox fell upon the city?" Teyla manages a sympathetic smile for John. He smiles wanly back, then hugs the bucket again. "Truly, I did not believe it would be so dangerous; it is merely an inconvenience to Athosian children."

"Ah, but the key there is _children_. Adults often suffer more with such illnesses than children." Carson pats her on the back. "Come on now, Ronon's begun showing symptoms which means he'll be moved from isolation to join the others and..."

Yes. Ronon may tend toward disagreeable when he is _well_.

"It is all right," she placates, touching Carson's hand. "I need to speak with Doctor Weir."

There is the matter of the team's next mission to consider.

*

Elizabeth is pale, too pale, and nursing a cup of Athosian tea. Teyla recognizes the scent as Charin's blend and smiles in approval.

"It tastes worse than it smells," says Elizabeth, with a wrinkled nose of distaste. "I didn't think that was _possible_."

Sitting down, Teyla casts a fond glance at the fetid-smelling liquid. The sight of it evokes many unpleasant, but still fond, images. The sensation that washes over her in that moment is nostalgia, rather than nausea, and she takes but a second to mourn her old friend. Then, she lifts a brow and says the words Charin chided her with so many times. "But it is _working_ is it not?"

"Oh it's working," Elizabeth nods tiredly. "I only feel half-dead now. That's...progress at least." She takes a quick swallow of the liquid, grimacing as it goes down. "_God!_" She shakes her head viciously, then presses a hand to her stomach, clearly regretting the action. "It does beat being hugging a bucket with the others though."

Teyla has always thought Elizabeth to be a wise, pragmatic soul. "It does at that," she nods. "I am told Ronon is now ill."

Given the pallor of her skin, Teyla's surprised Elizabeth can go any whiter, but she manages. "Oh god, he _is_?"

"I am afraid so," she affirms. "I believe it would be a wise caution to increase security if he becomes...difficult."

Some of the sick have become delirious at points; Teyla does not need to tell Elizabeth the problems Ronon in such a state could manage. They share a wary look and Elizabeth makes a note. "So, I assume you're here about the mission to Aldebaran?"

Teyla nods once. "The ritual celebration is this week, and I cannot miss it. The Baranians are too valuable trading partners to..."

"To call in sick?" Elizabeth laughs faintly. "Well," she purses her lips for a moment, "obviously you can't go with the others." Very few have the stomach to manage Charin's tea; Elizabeth and a skeleton crew are running Atlantis as best they can, while hoping the Wraith stay clear. "They're in no condition for it."

They chuckle ruefully. "No, they are not. If no one else is available," Teyla ventures thoughtfully, "I could enlist Halling and some of the others living on the mainland?"

Elizabeth shakes her head. "I wish I could say yes but, to be honest, I'm not sure we have anyone in the city right now with the gene that I would trust to fly out and back." She sighs, smiling faintly. "Carson thinks your 'pox' might have originally been an illness handed down from the Ancients, since those with the gene are sicker than everyone else."

"Then perhaps one of the teams currently stranded off world?" Teyla suggests, remembering the mention of them in the most recent briefing and Elizabeth nods. When the quarantine came into effect, it left several teams out on missions to fend for themselves until a vaccination became available.

"Good point." Energized by the chance to salvage the mission, Elizabeth seems more herself and it is a relief. "Major Lorne's team is among them. You could meet up with them off-world, as long as Carson clears you to go."

When she receives a nod of dismissal, Teyla returns it and leaves with a lighter step. She's glad to be going and only partly because of the trade issues.

As Colonel Sheppard would say, the Baranians know how to throw a party.

*

Teyla leaves Atlantis with a small bag of her belongings, and four vials of vaccine along. She stops at an intermediary world to bathe and change, shedding the potentially infected clothing and leaving it behind. It's a small caution, but one that Carson insisted on in case the vaccine fails.

Lorne and his team are waiting at her next stop and she smiles a greeting, holding up a vial. "I am sorry," she says, producing needles, "but it is necessary."

"How bad is it now?" Lieutenant Cadman asks, taking them.

"We are operating at 10 percent of what is normal, the city is barely functioning, and," Teyla chuckles, "Ronon is ill."

"Oh god,. Major Lorne grimaces. "Carson sedate him?"

"It has been discussed." Teyla hesitates before admitting, "A great deal."

He grins, broad and quick. "I'll just bet it has." Rolling up a sleeve, he turns to let Cadman vaccinate him. "Sheppard?"

"Very ill," Teyla sighs. "And refusing to consider drinking the Athosian remedy."

Lorne snickers and she suspects she has stumbled upon another peculiar ritual of the human male that mystify women of their own species.

"From what I've heard," Cadman laughs. "I'm not sure I blame him." She winks at Teyla. "I hear decomposing bodies left in hundred degree heat smell better."

With everyone vaccinated, Teyla dials Aldebaran. "Yes," she affirms as the wormhole opens, "That is precisely the comparison Doctor Weir made, though I am not particularly sure by what means she came to such experience."

"Believe me, Teyla," Lorne looks briefly sober, grim in a way she has not seen from him before. "You don't want to know."

Teyla thinks of the things she's seen in her life. "I suspect I already do," she sighs. "When we arrive at the city, please I ask you take care with your weapons. They are old and strong allies and..."

"And due all respect?" Lorne smiles gamely. "You said that about the Genii."

She closes her eyes. Ancestors willing there may yet be a day when she will live that down. "Yes, well, please...be _subtle_." It's fall on the planet and a cool breeze brushes her hair back and away from her face. "At least, attempt to be?"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about us," Lorne assures lightly. "We'll be on our best behavior."

Teyla has much to be thankful for since the arrival of the Earth expedition, a return to prayer is one of them.

*

Aldebaran is a lush jungle world and the humid heat is a sharp change from the cool of moments ago. Teyla pauses a few feet from the stargate and closes her eyes, taking a moment to let herself acclimate.

"Wow," Cadman says in a gust of breath, opening her jacket and fanning herself. "Now this is a switch."

"You could've mentioned the tropical temperatures," Lorne teases, taking up position at Teyla's side.

She gestures to the lighter clothing she donned on the intermediary world after departing Atlantis. "I would have thought it obvious by my dress."

In truth, she would not, but when he looks at her clothing, Lorne's cheeks redden slightly and it is not the first time he's done so. Teyla is not so inexperienced that she cannot recognize a man's desire at a glance, and she cannot resist the temptation to tease.

"I, uh," he clears his throat, and she sees Cadman's eyes roll," Well, this is a party isn't it?" He gestures to the clothing. "It's fancier than usual."

She smiles, "In a way, I suppose. However, I would not wear traveling clothing to a _celebration_, Major."

Setting off on the jungle path, she does not miss his muttered, "No, of _course_ you wouldn't, what was I thinking?" anymore than she misses Cadman's too sweet response.

"You were _thinking_?"

*

The Hidden City lies at the other end of a long, sticky hike through the jungle, a nearly-hidden city carved into the face of a mountain pass. Everyone, Teyla included, is overheated and exhausted when they pass through its carved archways, and into what feels like another world.

"It's a natural fortress," Lorne observes to Teyla, craning his neck to take in the rocky walls as she leads them deeper into the cool depths of the pass. "I'm surprised the Wraith haven't flattened it."

"I am not sure they are aware of its presence," Teyla looks over her shoulder at him. "The Baranians maintain a sparsely populated village some distance away in the very heart of the jungle." She smiles; it is not a happy gesture. "In generations past, this planet has been spared the violent cullings of other worlds. The Baranian traditions speak of strange energies in the rings which encircle the planet; no ship may pass through them unscathed."

"Only accessible by stargate, and seemingly under-populated..." Lorne muses. "Not worth the trouble to come here."

"I am not so sure of that any longer," she sighs.

"Too many Wraith awake at once..." Cadman puts in, falling into step with them. "Not enough bodies on other worlds, they may send as many darts as they can this time..."

"Many ships may send darts as well," Teyla agrees soberly. "I believe they already know this but," she lifts her chin slightly, "they deserve the honor of an explanation."

A shadow passes over Lorne's face and he looks down. "I should be there when you do," he says. "Considering our role in it, it's the least we can do."

"You do not have to," she assures with a touch to his arm. "It's a situation that I can handle alone."

"But you shouldn't," he insists. "Look, if Sheppard were here..." Lorne shrugs awkwardly. "I should help and besides," he grins, "I'll handle it better than he would, and these people deserve the right to give us what-for about all of this."

She considers it for a long moment, knowing at any second they will be greeted by the Baranian elders, and nods finally. "We will wait, but when I speak to them, yes, please join me."

He nods and exhales. "Thanks."

Teyla smiles faintly. "I do not believe gratitude is in order."

*

Nightfall comes early on Aldebaran, revealing the planetary rings streaking across the sky to Teyla's waiting gaze. She has never seen them from space, but her mind can create the picture easily. She has dreamt of it enough.

"I was a very small child the first time I set eyes on this sky, but this particular vantage point proves the awe does not lessen." She looks over her shoulder, sees him in the shadows. "Please join me, Major; you cannot see it properly from there."

Lorne chuckles ruefully, letting the curtain fall into place behind him, and stepping out of the shadows to join her. "Some party they're throwing."

Smiling slightly at the curious undertone, Teyla softly explains, "When one lives with the knowledge the next moment may bring the Wraith over the horizon? One learns to truly appreciate each and every moment as its own universe. Chances for celebration..." she sighs. "There are so few of them they must be enjoyed to the full."

"Eat, drink, and be merry," Lorne quotes a phrase she's heard from other expedition members, "for tomorrow we die." Though she doesn't ask, he elaborates, "Paraphrased from the scriptures of one of Earth's religious faiths."

She nods, taking it in. For a planet untouched by the Wraith, his people had a surprising depth of understanding for such things. "This festival is an example of that. It's held every year, so that its rituals may mark the beginning and end of the growing season. Each season which passes in which the Wraith have not come is especially joyous." She pauses briefly before slyly adding, "Many babies will be conceived here this night."

Whether it's her choice of wording or the laughter hidden in her voice she is not sure. No matter, Lorne understands the message quite clearly, and swallows hard.

"Are you saying this thing is about to turn into an _orgy_?!"

She laughs. "I am saying that among the rituals, it is a fertility rite but, yes, you may also call it that."

*

Returning to the warmth of the building, Teyla laughs again when Lorne lags behind. "Major..." Turning to face him, she bites her lip at the painfully uncomfortable expression on his face. She can see the interest beneath it, making all the more amusing. It is not so much disapproval, as the opposite. "It is a matter of logic, the Wraith do not often come to this world but they do come. If a society wishes to survive...certain measures must be undertaken." She folds her arms across her upper body, just beneath her breasts, and adds, "the Baranians have merely developed a more unorthodox approach than you are accustomed to."

"An approach which involves yearly orgies?" He takes another step closer to her, looking past her to the archway leading back to the party.

"Yes," she nods. "It is a simple matter of genetics and the illnesses which may arise if we are not careful and allow it to become limited. The elders of generations past found this way to be useful. All those of childbearing years partake. It is customary and," she grins, "not altogether unpleasant."

He reddens and has to clear his throat before speaking. "You mean you've..."

She nods. "I have. Off-worlders are regularly invited to these rituals. It is another way to ensure the viability of the community. However, you need not be concerned. I have spoken to them about such matters being...viewed _differently_ among your people. Nothing will be asked of you this night." She murmurs a playful, "Pity," before turning back down the hallway.

"So, uh," he catches up after a moment, "If Sheppard's team were here..."

"He is not," she reminds. "But, if he were, I have no doubt that he would be...most enthusiastically participating. There are a number of women in the village I suspect that he would find most attractive." She resists teasing him further though, it is on the tip of her tongue to add Rodney would also be easily coerced. She knows that Rodney would find the temptation of the expansion of his genius an opportunity too impossible to resist.

Already beginning to pair off, the Baranians barely acknowledge their return. Teyla sees Laura Cadman flirting with two young men, and tries not to laugh when the Marine subtly waves them off.

"You think we should warn them about birth control?" Lorne murmurs into her ear and she tries to hold back the shiver his breath on her neck evokes. The charged atmosphere of the room is difficult to ignore as is the urge to turn against him.

Instead, she shifts her body slightly to meet his gaze. "I believe that would be the lieutenant's choice," she reminds with a laugh. "Besides, I can assure you she is not the only woman with whom they will take time tonight."

His eyes darken; he is similarly affected as well. "Did Doctor Weir know about this part of the festival when you told her about this little trip of yours?"

Teyla looks down and away, smiling slightly. "No, I confess I did not. I do not believe she would be uncomfortable with concept, however, explaining my willing participation is another matter."

Her implication seems to finally connect with him and Lorne steps back. "You..." He looks around then lowers his voice. "You'd..."

She smiles gently. "I would. However, my participation has been limited. An Athosian always attends this festival as part of our peoples' relationship, unless a culling interferes. But, the few times I have, I have not borne a child of it. The stress, as I'm sure you know, has an effect on these matters."

"Can't imagine leaving a child here like that..." he murmurs thoughtfully, purposefully turning his head as people began to shed their clothing.

"I can," Teyla assures. "Athos had none of the natural protections of this world. Were I to have a child...other than Atlantis, I can think of few places that could possibly be safer to raise them."

Lorne nods, closing his eyes briefly. "Guess sooner or later, you have to consider it."

She laughs; there is only a slight edge on the sound. "Sooner or later, Major, living under the threat of the Wraith, if you wish your people to survive...it becomes almost all you think about."

"Teyla?" He ducks his head, grins and looks amused. "We're standing in the middle of an orgy, I think it's safe to drop the Major and just call me Evan."

It's almost sheepishly said ,but precisely what she needs to hear in its way. "All right," she says, taking a half step closer. "Evan." The name feels light and familiar on her lips and she spreads them in a warm smile. "Perhaps we should relocate this conversation, before someone believes you are going to," she lays a hand on his arm, subtly directing his attention to watching women, "_participate_?"

It pleases her to know that a man so accustomed to combat can still so easily blush.

*

"You know, they definitely didn't warn me about this when I signed up," Lorne - Evan - observes as they walk quietly through the carved halls of the fortress. "The life sucking aliens they mentioned, the Ancient technology they mentioned, Colonel Sheppard beating O'Neill's team for life endangerment? They mentioned _frequently_. This? They did not mention."

"And this would be..." She asks with a breathless laugh. It is difficult to keep focus on the conversation. The stone floor is uneven and he keeps a supportive hand to her back as they walk. With the cut of the dress she has chosen, she can feel the light calluses of his hand brushing her skin. It is _interesting_.

He chuckles. "Being invited to an orgy by one of the most beautiful women I've seen in two galaxies? Trust me, Teyla, they covered a lot of things in the briefing, but that wasn't one of them."

"Perhaps they should have," Teyla stops at the door, pleased when he does not move away. "I would think it is a situation you will face often."

He grins. "You think so?"

"I think many things," she nods at a passing Baranian who smiles broadly. He stops and moves his hand in ritual greeting before continuing on.

"Do I even want to know what that was?" Lorne asks, sneaking a pained look her way.

Teyla laughs. "I believe, by your expression you already know. It was a blessing that our copulation would be..." she pauses, deliberately hesitating to tease him, "fortuitous."

"You mean fruitful?"

"Well, that as well," she opens the door and takes a step backward. "But as I have said, they do believe that this process should be nothing if not pleasant, as well as productive."

He stops and stares at the non-too-subtle invitation. "Teyla?"

She reaches out, saying matter-of-factly, "In the spirit of the night," her smile widening, Teyla tangles her fingers in his jacket sleeve to tug him forward, "if not the desired outcome."

*

"How is it," Lorne mumbles against her lips, "that I missed the part where this was _my_ room?" His hands are hot on her hips, and the silk of her dress is no obstacle to him, sliding easily up as he bunches it into his fists. "I'm slipping in my old age."

Teyla doesn't answer, deft fingers working to open his pants while her lips part beneath his. Whatever response she might give, it's forgotten when their mouths slide together. It's exploration at first, testing. It's the kiss of a soldier on unfamiliar, dangerous ground.

She steps closer, letting her hands work beneath his shirt to the hard planes of his chest. He sucks in a breath in response; she laughs and turns him toward the bed. When she gives him a little push, Lorne grins wickedly and falls backward. "You were quite distracted at the time, _Major_," she says, standing over him.

Want flares in his eyes at her use of his rank and Lorne reaches for her, blue fabric of her dress sliding easily through his grasp. She's surprised him again. "You planned this," he realizes, as she works a hand into his pocket.

Producing the condom, she holds it up like the spoils of war. "Did I not know standard protocols for such matters," she teases, "I would believe it was _you_ who planned this."

He flashes a quick grin, watching her climb onto the bed with eyes alight with something that can best be described as glee. "Yeah, well, _that_ is General O'Neill's…doing."

Placing the little packet within easy reach, Teyla rises up to reach for the hem of his shirt. "Your General O'Neill is a very astute man," she decides, throwing the shirt aside and surveying her prize, "to think of such a necessity." She suspects, sitting here, she now looks the gleeful one. He is most _impressive_.

"Something like that," Lorne's breath hitches when her lips find his throat and suck at the skin.

"Hmm?" Humming against his skin, Teyla begins to explore. She actually is curious but can't tear herself away from her adventure long enough to form an actual question.

"Well, back when the General was a Colonel and had his own – oh, _god_ \- team…He…he needed…" Lorne trails off when she focuses her attention on his chest. No matter, Teyla has heard many tales of this O'Neill and she suspects she can piece together his need for such devices.

He grunts when she bites playfully, their bodies pushing and rubbing against each other. His hands come up to tangle in her hair, pulling her up for a kiss. She indulges for a moment before breaking the kiss against his grumble of disappointment.

Licking her lip, Teyla sits back and surveys him with a vaguely scolding look. "That, Major, was not what I had in mind."

He grins, wicked. "But it was pretty much what I was thinking."

She tilts her head, reaching for the tie of her dress and waiting for his gaze to follow. "Thinking?" When her dress falls away and his expression changes, Teyla laughs. "I do not believe, _Evan_, that _thinking_ is what you are doing at this particular juncture."

The reaction to that is a deep groan and his mouth on her breasts. She sighs, tilting her head back and resting her hands on his shoulders. She holds on tight, rocking on him for a moment before slowly pushing the temptation of his mouth away from her skin.

Lorne's expression is slightly dazed and she feels a rush of bemused arousal at the powerful effect she is having on him. "Somethin' wrong?" He asks, his hands resting on her hips with his thumbs working in a lazy circle over her skin. The casual touch raises bumps on her flesh and Teyla's eyes grow heavy-lidded.

She smiles, slow and playful. "Not precisely, no." Her hands slide down his arms and into the folds of her dress. "But, you are proving to make it most difficult to carry out my plans and that," she teases, "we cannot have."

He rolls them so that he's on top and grinning at her with mischief on every feature. "Oh yeah? And why can we not have that? It seems like a pretty good idea to me."

"Yes," she sighs out, arching up into his arms when he takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks firmly. "But, alas, your good idea is not much of a match for mine."

"No?" he asks against her skin, the wind of his breath cold against the slick heat of her breast.

Teyla briefly considers a warning, then rejects it in favor of pouncing quickly. Reversing their positions, she presses his wrists down into the bed and smirks at him. "No." There's a flare of satisfied surprise in his eyes and he grins up at her. "I am afraid, Evan, that while your idea is very good," she leans back, reaching for the rumpled ruin of her dress. "Mine is much better, and if I cannot trust you to trust that then steps will have to be taken."

He nods, the grin still firmly affixed to his face. "So, exactly how do you plan on doing that?"

She laughs, sliding the silk through her fingers before grabbing his hand, "I should think that's fairly obvious."

"Oh it is," he promises. "I'm just...surprised. Didn't think you had it in you."

Teyla smirks. "Not yet, but that, I believe, is the whole point of this little exercise."

*

"So," Lorne grins at her, arms stretched over his head and tied to the bedposts beyond. "Now that we've sacrificed your dress to the greater good, and you've got me, just what are you planning on doing with me? You did say you had a plan."

Teyla strokes her fingers along his arms, feels the strength hidden in them, and does not miss the way his eyes follow her body's movements. "I did say that, yes," she agrees, her fingers sliding down over his sides.

She laughs in delight when he suddenly shifts beneath her soft touch, revealing his body's sensitivity to it. "You are ticklish!"

That brings a sheepish chuckle from him. "A _little_," he hedges, body jerking again when she lets her fingers pay a return visit. "Teyla!"

Laughing, she leans over to kiss him in apology. "I will not breathe a word of my discovery," she assures, still smiling when she pulls away. "Such things are not to be shared and," she pauses with a wicked look, "I am not easily given to such sharing at any rate."

"Imagine my relief," he says dryly, stomach clenching when her fingers begin their exploration again, and linger on his abdomen. The promise in the touch is obvious and she lets the impact of it steal his focus, before she begins the excruciatingly slow process of removing his pants. They are not meant to come off easily, and she is forced to temper her impatience with the promise of their joining. It is not something that she wishes to rush.

"Oh I assure you," she tells him. "I am." Her fingers betray her with a fumble borne of her impatience and she hears him chuckle softly.

"They never planned on us having to get out of them in a hurry...least not for this." Lorne chuckles. "I'd help but..."

She leans forward, kissing up his abs and ending his comment abruptly. "I am quite capable, thank you," says Teyla, made smug by his silence. His breath catches, muscles clenching beneath the skin she's kissing, and she wants to laugh but, instead, she pulls back and takes his pants with her.

Dropping them over the end of the bed, she reaches for the condom of earlier and carefully opens it. His eyes watch her with an intense gaze and Teyla finds it surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. She has never been a person to whom focus has elusive but yet, she fumbles again when she takes him in hand.

He hisses once, a swift and almost explosive release of breath, and then goes quiet.

The silence when she slowly works the condom on is new. In her dealings and flirtations with him, he's never been particularly given to such silence and she tries to keep her gaze on her work. She thinks that if she looks again, she won't be able to look away.

Her hair brushing across the bare skin of her back makes Teyla shiver just a little as she finishes and lets herself look. His gaze is as she expected it would be, and she holds it, barely noticing herself rise over him until the feeling of working him into her brings a soft sigh from her lips.

The silk restraining him goes tight when he thrusts forward and up, arms reacting out of instinct and the need - she knows- to hold her. The action makes her laugh and his lips turn up into a chagrined smile. "Remind me again why agreeing to this part was a good idea?" he asks, ragged edges on every word.

Teyla leans in, hands sliding over his skin and grins as she holds her lips dangerously close to his. "It would be my _pleasure_."

He laughs into her mouth. "Your work at least," he teases. "I can't help much."

She kisses him, stilling her body's movements for a moment with her focus on the simple act. Her grin returns when she pulls back. "I do believe that I am quite capable of handling you."

A swift motion of her hips and he's groaning, body moving up into hers. "God knows you've done a bang up job so far."

Teyla is insufferably pleased with herself when she agrees. "Quite."

"Doing an even better job now."

"Yes," she says, breathlessly. "I am." Closing her eyes, Teyla allows herself the luxury of a moment lost in sensation. The sounds of their increasingly ragged breathing, the slight burn in her muscles from the exertion…the pleasure that's very quickly threatening to overtake the whole of her. She moans something which sounds like his name, but not quite. He answers it with an echoed moan of hers, and she opens her eyes, leaning in to kiss him slowly.

Without the use of his hands, he's hampered, and she can see the frustration in his eyes as he strains forward. A part of her is both thrilled by, and smug with, the fact he so wishes to touch her, and she reaches out to slide hands along his arms to feel the tension there. She knows next time, she'll answer for it and her body tenses with anticipation at the thought.

"Touch yourself," he begs, when their mouths part to suck down unsteady breaths. "Please, I want to see you," he closes the gap between their mouths, kissing her again. "Please."

Her hands are already moving back before he can finish the request. Teyla lightly squeezes a nipple, rolling it between her forefinger and thumb, while her other hand slides slowly down sweat-slick skin. When her fingers reach and fondle her clit, she can't stop the immediate choked gasp. The rhythm of her body's movement on him stutters with her distraction, and Teyla hears him curse in a low, almost guttural tone.

His body bucks up into hers and the combination makes her yell.

*

By dawn, they're tangled together beneath a sheet, and Teyla's dozing lightly on his chest, a faint grin of satisfaction on her lips. She thinks, after the night she's had, walking may be prove to be a challenge in the near future.

It is a very good thing, she believes then, that she does not plan to spend much time engaged in such activities.

She's only too content to stay exactly where she is for the foreseeable future. Yawning, she snuggles closer, kisses the skin beneath her lips, and falls asleep to the feeling of him running lazy fingers through her hair.

*

Looking healthier than when Teyla left, Elizabeth looks up from the report on her desk. "You might have mentioned the part where the festival turns into a three-day fertility rite." The amusement in her eyes suggests her diplomatic choice of words was not the first one which came to her mind. Teyla can only imagine the details which have reached her through Atlantis' extremely well-developed grapevine (a term she has yet to discover the origins of). Some of what she has already heard herself is particularly lurid, and not altogether accurate.

She is quite tired from the journey, this is true, but she thinks she would still remember 'riding Lorne like a prize pony' in the village square.

Not that it sounds like a particularly unpleasant activity in the least. Had the village square had suitable facilities, it is likely she wouldn't have been unwilling to try it. However…it is not the most comfortable of places. Besides, according to her own mental calculations, it's her turn anyway.

"I am sorry, Doctor Weir," she says truthfully. She had wished to be able to tell her. "It is a long-standing arrangement between the Baranians and my people which I must honor, and with the potential outcome in doubt, it seemed ill-advised to bring it up at the time."

Elizabeth smiles. She is not fooled in the least. Folding her hands on her desk, she says, "I can understand you having reservations about discussing it with me. It is a particularly difficult subject to broach but, well, if you were to become pregnant I can't say that it _wouldn't_ complicate matters. I can say that it wouldn't complicate them so much that we couldn't deal with it. The situation in Atlantis is not like any that we've dealt with previously, so certain allowances and practicalities had to be addressed.

"There is always the chance that it will happen to someone on the mission; even on Earth there is no birth control that is entirely foolproof. We came into the mission prepared to deal with the potential of pregnancies among the personnel, it's unlikely that all the women would wish to terminate and – at any rate – we couldn't exactly demand that they do. It is a matter of choice and we're respecting that. As it pertains to you, the situation is different no matter what we had prepared for. You aren't necessarily bound by any particular regulations in the way that expedition personnel, this galaxy is your home and the Wraith an every day part of your existence. Circumstances would, to a degree, be unique to you. I can say that it's likely, for a period of time, your off-world activities would be curtailed to a degree, but there's always going to be a place for you." Her smile turns wry. "Besides, I don't think anyone _could_ take your spot away from you. They'd have to get past Colonel Sheppard first, of course, thanks to the Pox he is a little cranky so…"

Teyla smiles, amused. "I will do my best to make it up to him at my earliest opportunity." She pauses to consider the more serious response. "The matter of a pregnancy is unlikely, at any rate. Given the presence of Major Lorne's team," she believes it to her credit that she does not betray the truth in her expression or tone. "Maybe next year," she offers with a light grin.

"Right, maybe next year," Elizabeth agrees, leaning back in her chair.

Whether or not either one of them is convinced, well, that Teyla cannot say.


End file.
